Visiting Knightly
by Eightcrayondon
Summary: Storm's relationship with a fellow member of Ahmed ElGibar's clan comes to a head and he finds himself in a situation where only the Windrider can assist him. Guest Starring Emma Frost and Psylocke, Madripoor and a brief inclusion of the Princess Bar. 6up
1. Chapter 1

Ellison Knightly, he'd lost his family in the conflict, same as I;two suicide bombings. Before I joined Achmed el-Gibar's ranks Ellison was our mentors prize pupil.

It was his green eyes and sandy hair that made me compete with him, my schoolgirl's crush pushed me to be closer to him; forcing me to graduate from pickpocket to grand larcenist. He was six years older than I and as far as he was concerned I was a cootie, but to me he was a god. So I did what children do; pushed him in the dirt and pretended that loot was far more important than his affections.

By the time I was twelve he was old enough to respect the woman-child I had become and without coaxing from Achmed he began to include me in his excursions.

I told _him_ first of my inner urgings to travel south and when these plans had come to fruition I relished the farewell embrace he offered.

I still swell with the same warmth at my memories of him.

I haven't seen him since I left our guild; when I returned to Egypt years ago I found that he was no longer among their ranks. Recently, I've become familiar with his status as an organized criminal in Madripoor, while he remains true to his background as a thief, he is the leader of a small gang that boasts membership including former denizens of The Hand and Shield.

It worries me now that I hold a picture of my friend, blindfolded in a small stark room.

While I'm confident that in time he has amassed an impressive number of adversaries, I'm positive that somehow my relationship with him prompted this kidnapping, not any lone sin he's committed against another.

The picture does not come with an accompanying note outlining the appropriate threats, however, I gather that if I do not make it to Madripoor soon, I will receive a parcel signifying the demise of Ellison Knightly.

This is a personal affair and in similar cases I would not involve the X-men, however, any trip to Madripoor calls for backup.

Emma Frost, since she's joined the ranks of the X-men, we've enjoyed an uneasy trust. Despite the bad blood between us, she was once the White Queen of the Hellfire Club and has a profound wealth of experience dealing with depraved criminal royalty and the duality of being both muscle and mind will come in handy.

"Hullo Storm."

I wince at her affected British accent and wonder why she even bothers covering her breasts; she's practically naked in a white halter top.

I explain the mission, what I know of it, and why I've elected to involve her; needless to say she is flattered where others would be insulted.

"I'll come along," she says, smiling wryly. "I do so love humidity and bugs that swat back."

Elizabeth Braddock, her sessions in the danger room are almost like ballet, her movements artfully fluid and graceful. While the initial success she has as a combatant were rewards born of the efforts of Lady Mandarin, Psylocke has proved her tenacity in improving and evolving her skills as a martial artist.

She is somewhat a wild card in that since her transformation she has stopped fighting smartly and instead optioned for close, risky hand to hand battles. With her telepathy she could have fell most of her opponents from a distance but she preferred her psychic knife. Now with her telekinesis she uses it as weapons and a reinforcement of her physical strength. Her motor skills leave much to be desired; her telekinesis could punch a hole through a mountain, but she lacks the surgeons proficiency expected of a veteran X-man.

Despite these flaws she remains as effective as any X-man on the battle field.

"Hullo Storm," she says, accent completely authentic. She pauses in action because Danger Room sessions automatically stop when the door is opened.

"I have a personal mission," I say, considering my words, unsure how to ask her to join me in Madripoor. It seems to be an unwritten rule amongst the X-men that unofficial matters are almost always handled solo, however, in this case I'm certain that I need help.

"Of course."

I pause for a second and add, "Emma will be joining us."

"So we'll be spending most of our time in the brothels, I imagine?"

We travel commercially, although our faces aren't exactly inconspicuous in Madripoor I still prefer subtlety.

While leaving the airport we're mobbed by a small group of beggars, tiny beautiful children whose parents have put them upon this lifestyle to feed the family. My eyebrow twitches slightly when I wonder what other tasks their parents expect of them to make money.

I give them some pittance, while I observe a particularly frail one lift Emma's wallet from her Hermes bag; usually she would psychically sense the robbery but in bustling crowds like this it isn't uncommon for a telepath to close their mind.

"Good God, Ororo! Isn't there soap on this godforsaken island? Or is armpit their national symbol?" Emma complains, and I must admit that the smell is rather overwhelming, but we are in Lowtown and few here care for hygiene when rape, frivolous murder and starvation are more common than not.

"We need to get to the Princess Bar," I say, hailing a taxicab and helping Emma and Betsy shove their luggage into the trunk; the driver remains in his seat.

"We've got to be on guard at all times," Betsy says, in the cab, looking at Emma and I. "Fighters here aren't lightweights; this won't be the usual scuffle, two against one in Madripoor isn't like two against one in New York, these people are as well trained as we are."

"So we should use our powers then?" Emma says, staring forward, no doubt tweaking the drivers perceptions so that he believes he hears another conversation.

Usually I would not approve of such exercises in the use of her telepathy, and I do not doubt that she would do it either way, but in situations such as these some rules must be amended.

The last time I visited Madripoor a number of my team almost died, I was dead for a while and I left in a wheel chair with the use of my powers as crippled as my legs. I plan to leave this time in one piece with both Emma and Betsy unscathed.

The Princess Bar isn't grand or even mildly attractive, it look like a small rundown factory, two thousand square feet of screened windows and chipped brick, with the appropriate filth.

"There isn't fresh air anywhere in Lowtown is there?" Emma asks as we enter the bar: It smells of body must and used liquor coming out of pores.

The place looks lazy during the day; there are people sitting at the stools in the bar hunched over, practically sleeping and an overweight man and woman playing pool on a weathered pool table.

The cigarette smoke is constant and I doubt that it ever airs out.

The lights go out almost immediately; my eyesight is almost as keen as Logan's and although I can't discern identity, I can make out their forms. Emma's telepathy act as a substitute for her eyes and Psylocke's stringent training as a ninja affords her the ability to fight without needing to see.

Too bad that we won't need to test our mettles in the pitched darkness; I weave a tapestry of lightning just below the ceiling and it lights the room in dark blue light and I recognize our assailant immediately, despite his disguises.

Apparently, before us stands Davis and Heather Cameron but inside of them is the living breathing incarnation of true evil.

In all of my life I've met and known many adversaries but I've only known one man to be truly evil, one single entity that is in fact wholly inhuman, who relishes and bloats in his deviance.

Amahl Farouk, Shadow King.

A/N: It must be said that this story does not follow the continuity of Shadow Kings involvements with Rogue, assume that he has been trapped on the Astral Plane, inactive, since Psylocke lost her telepathy.


	2. Chapter 2

I first met the Shadow King in Cairo, even as a child devils wanted me as their paramour and Shadow King was not the first. At the time of our meeting I was in the psychic thrall of Charles Xavier after I had lifted his wallet; during this moment of weakness Shadow King attacked his mind and they fought for me, needless to say, Xavier won but it was years later that Charles returned to stake his claim on me.

Through my tenure as with the X-men I have fought Shadow King countless times, and his attraction has not wavered in the least; I fully appreciate the irony in that he has corrupted Davis Cameron, with whom I have shared a tryst, and set him against me.

I was first attracted to Slipstream's naiveté, the fact that my life was so remote to his reality, it was wonderful that I could hold a conversation with him and not once speak of the X-men's current premiere antagonist. As I look at him now he is as much a warrior as any and while his mutant powers aren't aggressive his prowess as a combatant is a valid substitute for what he lacks in energy projection.

Like his sister he has changed physically, although his skin isn't armored gold his stature has increased frighteningly and he's been afforded all of the tribal markings of Shi'ar royalty, Neramani to be specific.

If ever legitimized he would be third in line to the Shi'ar throne, Lifeguard second, following Deathbird.

It is obvious that Shadow King has tweaked his genome to bring about these changes, what concerns me most is knowing that some small part of Davis is acting out of free will; Shadow King delights in culling the evil from a person, setting those violent instinct apart from their goodness, leaving it to charge the subjects.

_I will have to get the ceiling fixed for Logan_, I promising myself, using a combination of wind and lightning to make a large hole in the corner of the ceiling.

Davis is in fast pursuit, he is as skilled a flyer as I and I can't afford to take the offensive.

He has me!

He holds me from behind by the shoulders, quickly spinning me to face him, in his zeal he pops my shoulder out of the socket; the pain is no worse than what I've experienced in the past.

The strength and durability of a normal Shi'ar male far outreaches that of normal human male and while with my training I am stronger than most men, Davis is a Neramani Warrior; it would be futile to struggle physically.

I cannot afford to be subtle, the lightning reaches him full power from the skies, streaming itself through my body and _I_ double it's lethalness.

Shadow King is cunning, he shows me a flash of the Davis Cameron I knew; reminding me that the pain I inflict is owned solely by Davis. His face is ashen, gravely contorted by the furies of lightning that I have passed through him.

I do not relent, I know that Shadow King counts on me granting my former lover quarter, so that he can regain the upper hand in this battle.

The strongest X-man could not resist the tornado that spins Davis unto complete disorientation followed by my strongest gale that rends him through the largest, sturdiest building within sight.

Even with the telepathic prompting of Shadow King, Davis will be out of the fight for a while.

I hover above Madripoor for a few seconds and with my left hand, palm open, I knock my shoulder back into the socket, all the while reminding myself that I've ignored worse.

In the Princess bar I learn that Emma Frost remains armored, as does Peter, while unconscious.

I realize almost immediately that Shadow King fell her as soon as she took her armored form, for some reason her psychic defenses are crippled when she uses her secondary mutation: Betsy is immune to telepathy and when a telepath accesses my mind that connection is mildly disorientating for them and it also makes them susceptible to my elemental powers; no matter where they are on the planet but as though they were standing not two feet from me. It is akin to astral fighting.

Psylocke and Lifeguard are heads up, and Psylocke is truly magnificent; every move initiated by Lifeguard is efficiently parried and if Lifeguard gets too close, Betsy hits her with a wall of telekinesis that empties the distance that was bridged.

Her mind automatically reinforces her physical strength with telekinesis but she has no control over it, which makes it nearly impossible to pull a punch in battle. We haven't had the chance to fully gauge the scope of her telekinetic strength, but by the looks of Heather Cameron it has proven effective enough.

It's as though Betsy climbs Lifeguard like a tree to plunge the telekinetic version of her psychic knife into Heather's mind, causing a synapses which renders her unconscious.

"Handy, ain't it?" She says, turning to me, smiling, while starring into the ethereal purple dagger.

Using her hands, she sits Heather up, leaning her against the wall; I disapprove, when I know that with telekinesis she could have done so safely; if Heather had woken while being moved she could have pulled Betsy's throat out.

"Who's this slag?" She asks, exhaling and joining be beside Emma.

"She's Heather Cameron, she was a cursory member of the X-treme team after you …" I say, breaking eye contact, looking down at Emma once again.

"Well, no offense Heather, but you suck as my replacement."

We split up, Betsy and I; we cannot take Heather and Davis, it would be too risky but I carry Emma's unconscious diamonded body with me. While Madripoor gives new strides to the term lenience, I doubt that many would turn a blind eye to laying an comatose diamond woman in the back of a cab and carrying her through the lobby into the Madison Cybil Hotel.

We meet at the hotel, Betsy lets us in through the Balcony of the penthouse. Emma has been awake for a few minutes now, other than reverting to flesh she hasn't interacted much: Her pride is badly bruised after being bested so quickly, no matter how worthy the foe.

"What's our next step, Storm?" Psylocke asks, almost immediately.

"We find Shadow King," I say setting Emma on her feet.

"Then what?" Psylocke asks, indignantly. "No offense Emms but you're no Charles Xavier and even he never had a clear victory against Shadow King."

"Well you beat him once _Betts_ and you're talent as a telepath left much to be desired in those days, however, it does seem we need back up and I have the perfect someone in mind."

A/N: Sincere thanks to those who reviewed, it really matters.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles Xavier was once an even match forShadow King, but when last they met Charles found that he was no longer the most powerful mutant mind in the universe. Shadow King had cultivated his skills as a telepath, catapulting himself into a class all his own. It took the combined force of the X-men to take him down on the astral plane; where Charles once reigned supreme.

Psylocke only bested him because he had overextended himself and it took the combined might of her telepathy to keep him in check, so much that she became mind blind in that moment; I gather that when Vargas defeated and murdered her Shadow King was set free from her efforts.

Emma, Betsy and I are waiting for our evanescent ally in the lobby of the major airport in Madripoor, in Hightown; evidently some adventurers do not favor subtlety. The plane is running late and I'm irritated; a crowded airport filled to the brim with tourists who's only reason to visit Madripoor would be their curiosity of the dangerous.

If ambushed it would be difficult to protect the crowd and combat our adversaries effectively.

If I did not knowbetter I would think that Shadow King gleaned that thought from my mind as a cue.

The airport is no more than two thousand square feet and the landing strip can only accommodate small aircrafts, so when Lifeguard and Slipstream enter the airport they don't take us unaware.

The ceiling is relatively low for an airport, so flight is out of the question for our combatants; their wingspans would only hinder them in this arena, so they are forced to break through the crush of the crowd.

"Emma, I need a telepathic evacuation; Jean has demonstrated this skill before, I'm sure that you too can handle it!" I say in a terse whisper.

Almost immediately, the people rush for the door; Emma has induced a low-level panic throughout the airport.

Although to people who observe the change it me, it is as if my eye's cloud over when my iris and pupils disappear, but in fact my vision broadens; I can perceive auras and even sense the tendrils of neurons sent from the brain and map them to the body parts intended for use_**(X-treme X-men 14?)**_.

Through sheer force of will I force the temperature in this limited environment down ten degrees a second; while outside the change would be easier, inside I have less to work with so I am forced to create a pocket environment that would allow such a change.

This acts as a reinforcement to Emma psionic urgings.

For Betsy and I the change in temperature is negligible because the uniforms we wear beneath our clothes are insulated. Emma, however is forced to psychically raise her temperature, a task that splits her concentration three ways; before she was capping the crowds panic but urging them to abandon the airport.

This would have been the second time Shadow King knocked her unconscious in the same day, if not for her involved vanity Shadow King would have succeeded.

She's unattractive when she grits her teeth and because concentrated telepathy has a mild heat pattern, I am able to see her gather her psychic power from her task and refocus her energies to shield her mind from Shadow King.

As Psylocke observed before, Emma is no match for Shadow King, although her efforts to protect herself are working thus far, she is unable to take the offensive and her defenses are wavering.

She is needed in this fight, so I do something outside of the true realm of my powers. Raising an electro-magnetic field isn't easy for me, I have done it before and the effort it takes to ensure that my teammates and the civilians are not electrocuted is considerate since the EM field must envelop the entire airport.

Electromagnetic fields scramble psychic powers **_Uncanny X-men 457_**; making it nearly impossible for a telepath, even on of Emma's level to establish any new feats. The field doesn't hinder the efforts already established before the field was raised but new psionic displays would be wrenching.

For Shadow King, he is forced to make a choice -- since he is fighting long-distance, continue fighting Emma, forsaking his control over Slipstream and Lifeguard or abandon the battle with Emma to keep the Camerons' in his psychic thrall.

He does what I would do; felling a single X-men and forsaking your henchmen would be ill-advised when there are two others to contend with.

"Let us make short work of them!"

Emma knows that within the EM field she is impervious to Shadow Kings attacks, she also knows that she is unable to attack the Camerons' with telepathy in kind.

She gains little mass through the transformation, hardly bulking up, but I notice that I am blind to her muscle responses, to the neurons in her brain.

"I am of no use in this fight; I need to maintain the EM field and restore the natural temperature!"

The process is numbing, I have to split my concentration, giving any attention to the battle that surrounds me would hit my teammates with a deadly shock, until I have undone temperature change in this airport; I simply can not maintain the EM field, the unnatural temperature change and offensively use my powers.

The undoing of the process is slower that the doing; the temperature only moves up 5 degrees at a time.

When I finish, I see that Betsy is my fallen comrade this time; Lifeguard looms over her, both hands clinched into a hammer, ready to pound the last of her life from her body.

Lightning again, it surges into Lifeguards central nervous system and I notice something new; Shadow King has altered them somehow, their minds refuse to give into unconsciousness. It is as if they are ignoring the pain, as though it is fleeting, where I know that I'm sending the full measure of my lightning directly into her body.

Still Lifeguard persists in my direction.

My mind flowers, opening as if it were blooming and I pay no mind to the consequences of my action; when fighting Shadow King no blows can be pulled. The water rushes as if from nowhere, in a crushing flashflood (_**Uncanny X-men 154**_)!

The rushing waters remove Davis from the fight -- only in presence, since he is sent through the glass doors, but unfortunately it too removes Emma. Lifeguard is another matter, her powers are to adapt and evolve for whatever the situation is; her feet become clamps that root themselves into the floor and she anchors herself, waiting out the massive rush of water.

Winds rush around me at extreme speeds; forcing the water to detour.

When the water clears, Lifeguard takes to the cramped air and comes for me at top speed.

It's instant; she's frozen in place and although she wrenches against the telekinesis I know that it is futile: Reinforcement have arrive.

The expression on her face is pained at first; a mirror of Shadow Kings struggle to keep control of her mind, yet he fails and when Heather's expression relaxes I am thankful again for Emma's genius.

He is still frail looking and very tall, but his face is no longer contorted by the ghosts that used to haunt him. His hair is different, tied back in a short pony-tail with controlled curls and a clean Mediterranean look to him.

If I didn't know better I would never guess he were Charles' son.

"Hello Legion," I say, taking his left hand in both of mine.


	4. Chapter 4

Every X-Man has at one time or another been an adversary and I have fought nearly all of them, however, none have left me feeling betrayed, until Legion. It was single combat and I used my powers to their fullest, yet my efforts were simply shrugged off.

When he finally deigned me worthy of his full attention he pulled me from our battle and placed me in Egypt, seconds before a wounded fighter plane would crash into my family's brownstone, shattering my world. I can comfortably move at sub-sonic speeds, however, there are streams that I can tap into that allow me to break the sound barrier; because of the possible effects that this will have on the environment I never do this, however that day my desperation lent no care to any atmospheric repercussions.

I did not make it in time.

I have always known that I suffer from profound grief due to the loss of my parents, but until that I day I did not know the nature of the grief, the shear desperation involved. I relive that moment in my mind everyday and if given thechance again, I would destroy the fighter jet without concern for the pilot.

In this planning I have rationalized that he was a killer, that his life was forfeit anyway and that to save two is better than to lose three. However, I have realized that if it were a commercial flight, filled with innocents I would have given every drop of my energy to turn that airplane into cinders.

I bear some of the responsibility forLegion's actions; if not for my blind intent to save my parents, it is most probable that he would not have made the decision to eliminate the major opposition to his fathers dream.

We are back at the Madison Cybil; the most inappropriate of headquarters but with nothing more suitable we must take the risk.

"Where do we find Ellison?" I ask Heather, she is sitting on the edge of one of the king sized bed next to a harried Davis.

"I don't know," she says without looking up. I can sense her resentment; she is angry because of her brother's involvement. While fate is responsible for her mutation, Sage and myself are accountable for the change in Davis.

"Everything is like a dream, fuzzy." Davis say, both hands clutching each side of his head.

"You'll have to be psyscanned," Psylocke says casually, without moving a muscle.

"No!" Heather screams, jumping to her feet. "People have been screwing around inside of our heads for too long and Storm is the last person I'll let supervise my brothers lobotomy!"

"This isn't about you being bloody comfy!" Psylocke screams moving closer to confront Heather. "There are other people out there who would fancy being saved! Sometimes you have to swallow it and take one for the team!"

"They can't be psyscanned," David says, off to the side, observing us.

Davis looks up for the first time, he isn't crying but his cheeks are red streaked.

"The second a telepath tries to access Davis or Heathers memories they'll make themselves especially vulnerable to Shadow King's attack."

"Aren't your powers sufficient enough to combat Shadow King?" I ask, facing him.

"I am easily more powerful than Shadow King but in terms of skill I am no match for him, under the stress of an electromagnetic field, coupled with the internal resistance from Davis and Heather I was able to free them. If I were to enter their minds," he stops to hesitate. "Well, the outcome would be much different."

"No offense darling, but I must ask; why then are you here, I mean how exactly are you our big gun?" Betsy says, looking from the floor and to our general direction.

"Well," he says, making eye contact with her and smiling wryly. "Judging from the soporific effectShiar Barbie here had on you gals earlier; I think my cannons came just in the nick."

Betsy squints her eyes and smiles slightly, obviously intrigued by his candor.

"It looks like your boyfriend isn't going to wait for us to come to him," Emma says, interrupting us. "There's a … situation in the lobby."

I notice the expression on Legions face; he looks down and to the right.

"Storm," he says, looking into my eyes. "We already have casualties."

I feel hopeless while I allow the lightning to charge out of my body, transforming my street clothes into my uniform. The chance I took was incredible, setting us up in a hotel.

Cocksure, Legion bursts through the threshold of the stairway and into the main lobby, where it seems everyone has been slaughtered.

A thin, frail hand reaches and touches him; Legion falls to his knees and he looks as if he is fighting back a flood of vomit.

Scramble places himself in front of Legion, looking into all of us and smiling proudly.

It worries me that Legion does not hesitate at all; he instinctively thrusts his hands forward to touch Scrambler allowing the influx of power to obliterate him from existence.

Smoke silhouettes around Legion and he falls forward.

The rest of the Marauders come from their respective hiding places, looking maniacally joyful.

"You chumps can kill us," Harpoon says, resting his large weapon on his left shoulder. "Sinister's got our backs."

"It must be some kind of blind loyalty," Psylocke quips. "No matter how often you buggers are smashed he keeps sending you back."

Without another word, Scalphunter takes quick aim and shoots; the projectile turns into a pure purple energy blast.

Psylocke raises a forcefield to block the blast but when the blast hits her forcefield the field folds backwards, reforming into a wall of force. Betsy is thrown against the stairs and knocked unconscious.

"Two down baby," Scalphunter yells, guffawing.


	5. Chapter 5

I find my earlier theory arrogant, I had believed that the kidnapping of Ellison Knightly was a machination in a scheme against myself. Recent developments have proved that this theory is most probably wrong. Shadow King and I have an extensive history with one another; one could argue that he is as much my antagonist as Xavier's. However, Sinister and I have had no direct a direct rivalry

In all my time as an X-man I cannot remember an occasion that found Shadow King and Sinister in league with one another, I fear that their newfound allegiance will prove them merely the lieutenants of a more dangerous General.

Mental projection can be done from trained non-telepaths to telepaths and my intentions are crystal clear to Emma a split-second before a blanket of fog arrests the lobby, resulting in almost zero visibility.

Emma is first to act and I am shocked by her display; she reaches her telepathy into Legions mind wresting control of his telekinetic powers. I am further shocked by what follows: I see the heat pattern his power hum silently around a bottle of Moet crushing it as if in a fist, the tiny shards of glass rush toward Harpoon and I watch the glass circle her victim at horrifying a speed, completely eviscerating him.

"I do not want an encore!" I scream to Emma, before the echo of Harpoon's demise goes silent.

Is Emma more equipped in situations such as these? It seems as though she instinctively accepted the changes in the rules, without qualm. Not only did she deign to enter Legions mind without permission she also killed another being horribly. In the past I have taken lives for the greater good but is her willingness to kill when the stakes are high a quality that I lack.

Scalphunter is easily the most unpredictable and dangerous foe, my lightning crackles around his skin shocking him without entering his body and I am able to affect the air in his immediate area so that when the lightning expunges the oxygen it isn't replenished.

His gasps are unrequited and he falls to his knees choking and his eyes role upward before he loses consciousness. I count to three before I allow him air.

Vertigo has Heather and Davis to their knees, Emma snarls through the waves of her attack and I become more sure that she is toying with me. A blanket of telekinetic power covers Vertigo's face, smothering her.

Her eyes go silent.

"One," Emma says, looking at me with her head tilted, smiling wryly. "Two, three."

I glare.

"What's good for the goose ..."

"Wake Psylocke and Legion!"

I'm not sure if there Camerons' skills are inherent, a gift of their Shiar genetics or if they have in fact been training in the months since we last saw one another, but they're proving themselves on par with both Riptide and Arclight.

Lifeguards armor proves itself to be more fortified than Peters; Although Riptide increases the speed of his spin two fold, his shuriken does not even chip her. When she reaches him her motion is akin to that of a seasoned fighter, her arms are a pulled into a ready stance and as quick as anyone could she delivers a crushing blow to Riptides jaw.

Riptide has never been a close area fighter; once the distance is bridged his efforts are usually forfeit.

Slipstream demonstrates that he is as gifted a warrior as his sister, his challenge with Arclight could be deemed either more or less difficult, because while Arclight is much stronger than he, there are no flying shrapnel to bear. If Arclight were able to deliver a blow I'm positive that this fight would go in another direction, however, Davis is able to keep her staggered.

With the final opponent fallen we find ourselves exactly where we started; with no idea how to find our enemies, waiting for their pawns to arrive until we're defeated.

They seem completely pedestrian when they enter the hotel lobby, his arm is cradled around her shoulder and despite not seeing her since my final encounter with Candra I recognize Karima immediately.

A/N: I apologize to the maybe seven or less people who are reading this story for how long it has been taking me to update. This has been a very directionless story for me. I think that I have begun to seeits directionmoreclearly.


	6. Chapter 6

Karima's escort opens the door of what I assume to be _her_ spacious limo, ushering us in. Karima cannot be much older than sixteen; a woman-child and by muddied appearances it seems as though she is afforded every luxury.

Without a well-connected leader in Cairo the urchins found themselves at the mercy of the city. Karima tells me that members were rampantly disappearing and because she was unable to contact me, she was forced to seek refuge with another notorious member of El Gibar's clan.

Ellison proved himself to be their varnished knight, she tells me that the years have not been kind to my old companion, she intimates that he too is lacking in kindness. However, Karima was desperate for the protection of his reputation and welcomed the aid of anyone who could slow the mortality rate among the numbers of what has become _her_ clan. They joined him in Madripoor, she hints that he was a poor replacement of Achmed as a mentor.

"A few months ago," she tells me, "Ellison sent us on an outing; our task was to steal from Madripoor's prince."

"Viper," I whisper, in answer and recognition.

Viper's involvement forces me to consider Ellison's welfare; she is not a woman known to take pause, she is a woman of action and this characteristic precedes her.

"How do the Shadow King and Sinister fit into this?" Davis asks, leaning toward the girl.

"They have no place in this," Karima responds, meeting my eyes with her own, nervously moving her hand from her lap and casually brushing her forefinger across her nose.

"Karima's powers are to create clones or original beings by gleaning psychic information from her own mind or the minds of others. The clones are so full that they believe themselves to be authentic."

"Shadow King was a clone?" He asks, looking into Ororo's eyes, remembering his affection for her.

"He wasn't the only one love," Psylocke responds, looking into his eyes then leaning her head toward Legion and asking, "Was the real one this bloomin' daft?"

"I don't know," he says dryly with a quarter of a shrug and a tilt of his head. "I was dead."

"Me too!" Psylocke exclaims, smiling wryly and wrinkling her nose.

Legion chuckles lightly.

"Hush children!" Emma says, her expressive eyes overflowing with amusement. "Mother Superior has to let the clone down easily before he is returned to oblivion."

I cut my eyes at them, sigh and give an affirmative nod.

The Davis clones fade away, at first they are incorporeal then progressing speedily toward nothingness.

_Goddess! The zealots cannot be blamed for fearing us, not when we are now creating life._

"Now for the obvious question," Emma says, leaning toward Karima. "Now, why exactly did you try to kill us, Cupcake?"

"No," she says hurriedly. "I wasn't trying to kill you. We were luring you; the X-men are so busy but we needed you so badly. Viper has Ellison and we're stuck on this island and when he's dead we'll be worse off than we were in Cairo. The X-men were my last resource."

"So those people aren't dead?" Legion asks.

"No, no one real _was_ ever hurt."

She sounds like a leader, more able to make difficult decisions than I when I took leadership responsibilities at twenty-four. Here sits a sixteen-year-old girl with the weight of dozens of others on her shoulders, refusing to collapse while bearing her crosses.

"Ellison hasn't been executed yet?" Legion asks, folding his hands in his lap.

"Have you pooped yet?" Psylocke asks Legion, looking at him with her questioning eyes. She rests her face in the palm of her right hand, as though this were a serious inquiry.

Karima looks at Psylocke, raising an eyebrow, and then returning her attention to Legion.

"No," Karima answers Legion. "Viper wants a public execution, she has an obsession with Queen Mary I."

"I mean since you've come back, doll," Psylocke says, gesturing with her hands, still talking to Legion. "What exactly is going on with you? You are _so_ stiff! Have you got the resurrection blues; everyone here has been at least a little dead, right? So it can't possibly be that and none of our fathers paid attention to any of us while growing up so it isn't that either, is it?"

"Psylocke!" I yell.

She turns to look at me, her expression is perplexed; I would swear that she has no clue how inappropriate she is being. How could she not, we are in dire straits and in the midst of this crisis she feels inclined to explore the composure of an interim X-man.

I narrow my eyes and look to Karima, realizing that for the past few minutes I too have been resisting headiness. She, however, seems oddly composed while my teammates are in stitches.

"She said that the clan would have her full protection." Karima says, recognizing my obvious suspicions.

"What have you done Karima?"

"The little bitch sold us out!" Emma screams, laughing chaotically, only for Legion and Psylocke to join her fits.

"You seem unaffected, Karima," I say, holding her sleeve in my clenched right hand. "Viper would not have conditioned your immunity to her poisons. Not when you are a potentially formidable adversary."

I pat her person; there must be some sort of device or injection that would serve in helping to keep her sober in the afterward of extended exposure to Viper's drugs.

"Where is it Karima?"

"No Storm," she replies, sinking backward into the seat, trying to avoid my clumsy, probing hands.

The car stops and the door swings open, her manicured hand rests on the frame of the door, near the glass of the tinted window. I feel heady; she bends looking into the car, dismissing the giggling trio and resting her triumphant green eyes on me.

"You're looking well, Windrider." Viper comments.


End file.
